


Game. Set. Match.

by itsthedetails



Category: CW Network RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-10-02
Updated: 2007-10-02
Packaged: 2017-11-21 22:16:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/602670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsthedetails/pseuds/itsthedetails
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen is a former tennis star trying to make his come back. He’s screwed up with Jared in the past. Can he make things right with Jared and still win a Grand Slam title?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Game. Set. Match.

**Now**

_“Welcome to the 2007 US Open. Here we are at Arthur Ashe Stadium greeting all the athletes as they arrive for opening ceremonies. We’ve been waiting patiently to get a moment with four time US Open winner Jensen Ackles. He’s been hindered with injuries since his last win in 2004, but after the tennis season he’s had this year he looks like a definite contender for the title here in Flushing, NY in 2007.”_

Jensen sits in front of his locker and fiddles with the sweat bands around his wrists. Taking a deep breath, he tries to calm his nerves; this is only the first round, he thinks to himself. The guy he’s playing is practically a baby compared to him. He digs his fingers into his thigh muscle hoping it’ll loosen up a bit more. He doesn’t want to deal with muscle cramping the way he did at Wimbledon.

Rolling his neck once more, he gets the signal from his handler that it’s time for him to make his entrance. He grabs his tennis bag and slings it over his shoulder, smoothing down his new Nike embossed black and red shirt. He discreetly taps his fingers over his heart and then touches them to the medallion that hangs around his neck tucked under his shirt. With a last look around the locker room he pushes through the door and out into the hallway.

Security has the hallway clear, except for the interviewer and a cameraman. Stopping briefly, he answers the standard questions on auto-pilot and hopes he won’t come across as too nervous on national television. He’s hustled forward, and before he knows it, he’s out in the bright New York sun, thousands of fans screaming his name.

Jensen smiles and waves to the crowds—the energy of the people pulsing through him; this is what he lives for, the excitement of the game, playing for the crowds.

He sits in his chair on the sidelines, sets his towel over the arm of the chair and pulls one of his rackets out of his bag. He presses and pulls at the strings, bangs the heel of his palm against the taut webbing, and is satisfied with the give.

Before he can blink, he’s out on the court getting ready to serve. The crowd quiets, but he’s already tuned everything out except what is happening on the court. His racket is an extension of his arm and after bouncing the ball and tossing it smoothly into the air; he reaches back and slams it across the net.

To Jensen, the first game is always most important; if he can win the first game, he can take the set. If he can take the set, he can take the match. It is a superstition that doesn’t always pan out, after all, he won the Open in 2002 losing more first games than he won, but it’s still something that’s always in the back of his mind. They’re off to a strong volley and in the mid-afternoon heat of late August Jensen can feel the sweat already starting to collect on his brow and down his back.

His eyes take in every move his opponent makes and that’s when he sees him make a fatal mistake. His opponent is leaving his left side open. Jensen takes advantage and swings a solid backhand, sending the ball flying just out of reach.

Jensen’s confidence swells and he takes the first game and set. He struggles during the second set and ultimately loses it, but he comes back strong and takes the third and forth sets 6/4 and 6/5 winning the match.

Afterwards when he sits in the quiet of the locker room he sends unspoken thanks up to the heavens to whoever was listening earlier today.

Jensen doesn’t play his second round game for another two days; the only time he leaves his hotel room is for workouts. Everyone is saying this will be his come back year and that’s why he’s so focused, but really—Jensen is hiding out. He can’t afford to run into the one person here that can distract him from his game, Jared Padalecki.

***

**Then**

Jensen and Jared had been training partners since they were teenagers and they practically grew up in the game together. Jensen had always looked out for Jared. Even when he was on his winning streak and seemed to be heading into Grand Slam history, he never left his friend behind. Despite the fact that they often played each other, there was never any animosity between them, just friendly competition. They seemed like the perfect team, both on and _off_ the court.

The tennis world is relatively small and players gossip like teenage girls. It was no secret that both Jared and Jensen were gay, so it came as no surprise that they were dating each other. That time in Jensen’s life was one of the happiest, he had been winning Grand Slam after Grand Slam, he was ranked number one in the world and he had Jared.

But as things tended to do, they started to fall apart and for Jensen they fell apart catastrophically. He’d injured his back, he was having problems with his coach, and he suspected his manager was stealing from him. Through it all, Jared had never been anything but supportive. However, Jensen was getting more and more depressed and frustrated with his recovery and career. He needed minor back surgery after his 2004 US Open win. He couldn’t play tennis for _at least_ six months after the surgery and he’d fired both his coach and his manager.

As the depression set in deeper, Jensen took out all his frustration on Jared. Jared’s career was actually moving forward. He’d made it to the semi-finals at the Australian Open and instead of Jensen’s name being splashed all over the Sports section of the newspaper it was Jared’s.

Jensen was trying to heal and get back to playing tennis, but the depression had spiraled out of control and led to a huge blow out between the couple.

Jensen accused Jared of taking advantage of him, of riding his coat tails until Jensen was out of the way, so he could be in the spot light. He even accused Jared of cheating on him with Andy Roddick. Finally, Jared gave up trying, too hurt and too angry, to deal with Jensen anymore.

Jensen had finally hit rock bottom.

***  
 **Now**

_“We’re now down on the court with Jensen Ackles getting ready for third round play. Jensen, you’ve been playing exceptionally well so far, sweeping Nalbandian 6/4, 7/6 and 6/5 in the second round. If you can make it through this round you’ll be playing Nadal in the fourth round. Do you think you’ll be able to take him?”_

_“I sure hope so, Jim, but all I’m thinking about is today’s match once I get through that I’ll think about Nadal.”_

_“Fair enough, good luck to you, Jensen. I’m Jim Courier, now back to you in the booth, John.”_

By the time Jensen is getting ready to play his third round match he has butterflies flapping in his stomach so hard he thinks they’ll explode right out. He’s been lucky so far, Nalbandian lost his concentration early on and Jensen took advantage. This third round match isn’t going to be quite so easy.

Jensen starts off strong, but in the second set he double faults three times causing him to start doubting himself. He loses that set and when he sits down to towel himself off he glances up into the stands looking for his coach.

He finds Pete’s dark hair right away and he knows he’s projecting his nerves. Pete gestures for him to calm down and focus—to not let himself get too distracted. He uses a few hand signals to convey things Jensen should look out for and just as Jensen’s about ready to head back onto the court he spots Jared’s unmistakable face in the crowd.

Even though Jensen has been avoiding everyone at the tournament like the plague, he still is following Jared’s game. Jared easily beat his third round opponent yesterday and is playing James Blake tomorrow.

Jared catches Jensen’s eye and he smiles briefly. Jensen ducks his head, flustered at the gesture. He takes a deep breath and walks out onto the court, steadfastly ignoring Jared’s presence.

He double faults right off the bat and he internally curses himself for letting Jared’s presence get to him. Blocking everything else out, he shuts his mind down, thinking only of the game.

The third set comes down to a tie breaker that Jensen wins and he takes the fourth set easily. He grins for the cameras and waves to the crowd. He unconsciously searches for Jared in the stands until he realizes Jared is no longer amongst the crowd.

***

**Then**

Wimbledon had been both a boost of confidence and a wake-up call for Jensen. He’d been on a high from the French Open. Although, clay courts are not his strong suit, Jensen had made it to the quarter finals, solidifying in his mind that he had a real chance to win both Wimbledon and the US Open.

He’d felt it in his bones; Wimbledon was going to be a rallying point for him. He’d had hope, one that didn’t dare voice, that he could win Wimbledon.

The first rounds had gone well for him and he was sure he could take his quarter final match and then beat his opponent in the semis. After that it would all come down to skill and luck. Right then though, everything had been on track until he ran into Jared in the hotel restaurant, when they were both celebrating their fourth round victories.

It was the first time they’d been in the same room with each other since their blow out almost two years before. Jensen had wanted to apologize for a long time now. Once he’d pulled himself out of his depression and gotten himself back on track he’d realized what an ass he’d been to Jared.

He’d tried calling him, tried to see him, but it seemed Jared didn’t want to talk to him. It served Jensen right after he treated the person who’d been his friend—his lover—the way he had, but he’d hoped for the chance to make it right.

It seemed he was going to get his chance that night.

He sat next to Jared at the bar. They were both waiting for a table and Jared sipped his cranberry juice and seltzer in silence, not making it easy for Jensen to explain himself. Jensen ordered a club soda with lime and drank half of it down before speaking. “I’ve wanted to talk to you for a long time now.” He paused; Jared wouldn’t even look over at him. Jensen steeled his nerves and gathered his strength, pushing forward to get the difficult words out. “I owe you a huge apology. I treated you horribly and you didn’t deserve it. I blamed you for things you had no control over, things _I_ didn’t even have control over. I was in a bad place and you were the scapegoat.”

Jensen let out the breath he was holding and let his eyes slide over to look at Jared—hoping for some kind of reaction. He’d finally said all the things he’d wanted to say to Jared for years and it lifted a weight off his shoulders, but it wouldn’t change anything if Jared couldn’t forgive him.

“I know I have no right to ask, but I want us to be friends again. I’m so sorry about the way I acted, about all the things I said. I know none of it was true. I know you’re not like that, that you never would have done the things I accused you of. I just—” He paused again, his words getting caught around the lump in his throat. He swallowed hard and started again. “I was hoping you’d be able to forgive me.”

The din of the crowded restaurant faded into the background and Jensen focused on Jared. He hoped he would at least look at him. He’d hoped for a patented Padalecki smile, but Jared continued to stare into his drink.

Finally, Jared looked up, his face was guarded, but Jensen could see the softness in his eyes.

“I’ve been waiting so long to hear you say that. I tried to forget about you, ignored your calls, but in the end I was waiting to hear you say you were sorry.”

Jensen jumped in cutting him off. “I _am_ sorry. I’m _so_ sorry. I wish I could take it all back. I wish I could make it right.”

What Jensen had been waiting almost two years to see finally appeared in front of him. Jared’s grin, the one that could light up the Las Vegas strip, spread across his face. “Let’s get out of here. This place is too stuffy.”

Jensen nodded his head and grinned back. He hopped off his stool and followed Jared out of the hotel.

They’d ended up in a small pub not far from the hotel. Even though they both had to play their next round match in two days they gorged themselves with burgers and chips. Jared stared at the pints going by on trays, but Jensen playfully reminded him that his coach would kill him if he got drunk before a match, especially in a Grand Slam event.

They talked until the pub closed down and kicked them out. Jared was just as loud and goofy as Jensen remembered. Even though he still felt guilty as hell for the way he’d treated Jared, Jared being Jared, wouldn’t let him wallow in the guilt. It was like the last two years had never happened and Jensen couldn’t have been happier to have his friend back.

Things had been going so well—until they’d gotten back to the hotel.

Jensen had followed Jared to his room. He couldn’t explain why. His own room was two floors up, he should have stayed in the elevator, but things had been going so well he didn’t want to leave Jared.

When they’d arrived at Jared’s door they both sort of slowed down, their endless chatter stopped and Jensen couldn’t stop staring at Jared. Everything had been great, it had been like old times, but old times for them meant more than just friendship.

Jared was standing in the open doorway when Jensen leaned in and kissed him. It was tentative at first, but when Jared’s hands skated up his arms and his fingers wound through his spiky hair, Jensen deepened the kiss. Jared tasted so good, just as he remembered him, sweet and spicy all at the same time.

It was intoxicating.

Jensen was drunk on Jared. It was the only explanation for what happened next. They tumbled into Jared’s hotel room. They knocked into the walls as the struggled out of their clothes and headed for the bed. Jensen wanted to touch every part of Jared—his strong chest, sculpted abs and the jut of bone at his hip.

Jared swept his tongue around Jensen’s nipple and worried his teeth over the little nub. Jensen moaned loudly and ripped at the button on Jared’s jeans. He pushed frantically until the pants were around Jared’s knees and Jensen could wrap his hand around Jared’s length.

The rest of their clothes disappeared, scattered around the room. Jensen still had Jared’s dick in hand squeezing lightly and running his thumb over the slit. Jared fumbled in the bag lying by the bedside, half falling off the bed as Jensen leaned down to take the head of his cock in his mouth.

When Jensen’s warm tongue licked over the head of Jared’s cock Jared yelped in surprise, falling back against the bed. By the time Jared had righted himself, Jensen was pressing his tongue to the sensitive ridge at the crown of his cock and moved lower to suck his balls into his mouth. Jared tugged at the tips of Jensen’s hair, maneuvering him up so they could kiss again.

Jared shifted them so Jensen was laid out underneath him. While kissing Jensen’s jaw and mouthing his earlobe, Jared popped the cap on the lube he’d found in his bag and slicked up his fingers. He dragged the tips of his fingers down the cleft of Jensen’s ass and rubbed gently at his hole.

Jared carefully worked one finger in while Jensen moaned uncontrollably. When Jared had successfully opened Jensen and had three fingers plunging in and out of his ass, he pulled them free and lined himself up at Jensen’s opening. Jared slid in like he was coming home and Jensen could barely stand the sensation of being so filled up.

It was fast and frantic. They both were panting and when Jensen lifted his knees up to clamp them at Jared’s sides Jared pounded into him harder. Despite the fact that they were practically glued to each other, Jensen worked his hand between them and grasped at his cock—hoping that they could come together.

He pumped his fist over his velvety soft skin, their sweat making his motions smoother. When Jared realized that Jensen was jacking his own cock he batted Jensen’s hand away and gripped his hand tightly at the base.

Jared started off stroking Jensen slow, sending delicious tremors up and down Jensen’s spine; but then he quickly sped up to meet his hips thrumming pace. Just as Jensen felt his balls tighten, and an explosion of pleasure race through his body and out his dick; he sensed Jared burst with warmth inside of him.

They fell asleep wrapped in each other—not caring that they were sticky and sweaty, but happy to have found each other again.

That was until Jensen woke up the next morning and freaked out. He couldn’t believe he had done this, he was right in the middle of a Grand Slam tournament and he’d decided now was the time to jump into bed with his ex.

Jensen sat up trying not to jar Jared awake. He pushed his hands through his hair and glanced down at Jared, sleeping peacefully. He didn’t know what he was thinking last night—coming back here to Jared’s hotel room, kissing him, having sex with him after so long.

He’d wanted to apologize to Jared for so long. He’d been hoping to get his friend back, he’d even had a small hope that he’d get his lover back, but deep down he never thought Jared would be able to forgive his behavior. Jensen didn’t know what to think, everything had happened so fast and without really talking everything out. He was afraid of screwing things up with Jared again. He never wanted to hurt Jared like he had before.

He had to think.

He had to get out of there.

Jensen slide carefully out of bed gathering his clothes quickly and quietly. He dressed in the dark, his chest tightening painfully at the thought of leaving Jared. He wanted to stay; he thought he’d been ready to make things right with Jared, but the irrational fear that he’d make even more of a mess of things—that he’d hurt Jared worse than before overtook him. Before Jared could wake up, he scribbled off a note saying he had to go and with a regretful glance at the sex-rumpled bed he gave Jared a soft kiss and whispered he was sorry.

***

**Now**

Back in the locker room after winning his third round game Jensen has to wonder what Jared is doing watching him play. They haven’t spoken since that night at Wimbledon. Jensen had gone on to lose his next round game and he left England without seeing Jared again.

He’d thrown himself straight back into training for the US Open, not even trying to call Jared. Now here he is playing for a comeback title and wondering what the hell Jared is thinking.

He showers, changes into fresh clothes and packs his bag up. He can’t stop thinking of Jared as he is escorted through the crowd, when he stops to sign autographs or during the entire car ride back to his hotel in Midtown.

He wants desperately to talk to Jared. He fucked up at Wimbledon. He’d been so caught up with the idea of winning another Grand Slam title—with the idea that he’d only hurt Jared in the long run—that he thought starting things with Jared would only be a distraction and a mistake, but here he is at the US Open and even without being _with_ Jared all he can think of is _Jared._

***

Jensen tortures himself the next two days, he barely squeaks out a win over Nadal in the fourth round and he’s dreading playing his quarter final match. He tries to find Jared, but no one he asks seems to know which hotel Jared is staying at. Jensen shows up during Jared’s scheduled practice time only to find out there is a swap at the last minute and Jared’s nowhere in sight.

The only time he sees Jared is when Jensen finds himself at Jared’s quarter final match. He’s followed Jared’s career since their fall out in 2005, but he hasn’t seen him play in longer than that. Jared is amazing. Jensen can’t tear his eyes from him. His body moves in fluid motion like a panther stalking its prey. Jensen is at a loss for breath watching Jared; it’s no wonder he’s made it as far as he has. Jared could easily take this guy and Jensen thinks Jared knows it.

Watching the volleys, Jensen knows Jared’s just waiting to go in for the kill. When he does, it’s a thing of beauty. Jared runs his opponent ragged and just when he thinks Jared’s going to swing a backhand across, he switches up his stance and slams a beautiful forehand, sending the ball flying past the exhausted player.

The crowd is on its feet cheering like crazy. They love Jared and really—who wouldn’t? Jensen watches as Jared does a goofy celebratory dance and then smiles brightly thanking his opponent for the game. He runs down the sidelines slapping the hands of fans along the barrier and finally comes up to be interviewed.

Jensen can’t help but smile as he watches Jared joke with Jim Courier. He’s getting ready to gather his stuff and head out when he feels a steady gaze boring into him. He looks up and finds that even though Jared is talking to Courier, his eyes are pinned on Jensen.

Jensen freezes unable to read the look in Jared’s eyes. They stay in a stalemate until Jensen is jostled by the other fans trying to exit the stands and Jared is ushered toward the locker room.

***

When the time comes for the quarter-finals, Jared attends Jensen’s match and they play their own version of a staring contest again. The game ends with another win for Jensen, but despite his victory his thoughts are consistently coming back to Jared. Jensen still hasn’t spoken a word to him, but not for lack of trying.

After the match Jensen searches the stadium high and low, but Jared is nowhere to be found. It is really starting to grate on Jensen’s nerves. He doesn’t know what Jared’s thinking, he doesn’t know what the staring means and he’s starting to fear that Jared’s finally had the last straw with Jensen’s insecurities and is only seeking him out to put an end to the game they are playing.

***

Jared creams Andy Roddick in his semi-final match, and Jensen still has to play Roger Federer in his own semi match. Jensen goes through his locker room ritual trying to shake his nerves. In his younger days he was cocky and barely ever felt the quaking nerves building up in his stomach.

Today he’s going to be playing the number one ranked player in the world and he’s scared shitless. He touches his fingers lightly over his heart and then touches his medallion and heads out to seek his fate.

Federer is no easy mark. The tension in the stadium is felt by every last onlooker. They fight for every last point. Jensen loses the first set and can’t help but feel it’s a sign. By the time he takes the second set in a tiebreaker, Jensen is exhausted. He feels like his thigh is cramping, but he pushes through—though still losing the third set. When he takes the fourth set, tying it up, two sets to two sets, his back starts to ache. If he gets through the last set he’s going to have to see his doctor before he’ll be able to even do his workout for the finals match.

Federer is almost flawless playing the last set, Jensen can’t rely solely on brute physical strength the way he did in the past. He watches Federer’s every move, and when it comes down to the very last point, Jensen finally sees Federer’s small tell. He’s surprised he didn’t notice it sooner, now it seems so obvious. On his next serve Jensen takes the advantage and when the words “Ackles, Game. Set. Match.” boom through the stadium Jensen can’t believe it.

He’s frozen in his spot until the roar of the crowd finally breaks through into his consciousness. In a daze he shakes hands with Federer and muddles his way through the interviews. He won his semi-final match against Roger Federer, something he really didn’t think would ever happen and now he is in the final match of the US Open.

The final match against Jared Padalecki.

***

Later, back at his hotel, Jensen is at a loss. This is what he’d been working so hard for. He worked through pain and injury, he lost his best friend and lover and now he is back at the top of his game with the possibility of making things right with Jared and he has to play _against_ him for the title.

His life sucks.

***

Jensen is a bundle of nerves when enters the locker room after his warm-up. He knows Jared’s in here. He knows they’ll have a chance to talk before going out to the court. He knows whatever is said here and now will change the rest of his life.

For a second Jensen thinks Jared’s not here, that he didn’t want to be in the same locker room as Jensen, but as he turns the corner of a row of lockers he sees Jared sitting on a bench.

Jared’s dressed in white shorts and a royal blue sleeveless shirt. The lack of sleeves show off Jared’s muscled biceps and Jensen wants to reach out and touch him.

Jared smiles faintly at Jensen, but doesn’t initiate conversation. Jensen sits down opposite of Jared and opens his bag, pulling out his clothes and sneakers, but his mind is only on Jared.

He dresses quickly, double checking the laces on his sneakers and adjusting the sweat bands on his wrist. Finally, he can’t take the silence any longer. He turns to face Jared. “I know this probably doesn’t mean much with the amount of times I’ve said it, but I’m sorry about what happened at Wimbledon. I was an idiot and I freaked out. I shouldn’t have left like that. I should have called you after.”

Jensen still hasn’t figured out how to read Jared’s face, Jared has gotten much more capable at hiding what he’s thinking, but Jensen thinks the odds are at least fifty-fifty he’s going out on the court with a black eye by the way Jared’s looking at him now.

Jared visibly deflates, slouching down on the bench. “I knew that—I knew you’d freak out. Jen, you keep forgetting that I know you better than anyone. I’m not mad. I’m just disappointed.”

Jensen cringes at the degree of sadness in Jared’s voice. “I’m so sorry. I know I’ve fucked up so much, but I don’t want to be that guy anymore. The guy that freaks out, lashes out and runs. I know I’m asking a lot, but is there any way you could forgive me again?”

Jared glances around the locker room, avoiding Jensen’s pleading eyes. His gaze finally settles on his hands sitting in his lap. When he speaks his voice is no more than a whisper. “I don’t know, Jen. I just don’t know.”

A whoosh of air rushes out of Jensen. He feels like he’s been punched in the gut. He isn’t expecting that. Jared has always forgiven him—always been able to see past all of Jensen’s faults. He guesses even Jared has limits.

Unconsciously, he taps his fingers over his heart and touches the medallion hanging around his neck, ready as he’ll ever be to go out onto the court. He’s about to tuck the necklace under his shirt when Jared grabs his wrist.

Jared stares intently at the small round piece of metal and then flicks his gaze up to meet Jensen’s. Jared’s eyes are wide with surprise and the sadness that flooded them earlier is replaced with something else. Jared’s still grasping his wrist when he whispers. “You kept it?”

For a moment Jensen’s confused and then his eyes flicker down to the necklace and recollection fills him. He speaks with conviction, loud and proud. “Of course I did, every day since I realized what it meant I’ve worn it. Before every match I touch it reminding myself of that day with you. It’s what got me through every day since then.”

The energy between them is palpable until Jared realizes he’s still holding onto Jensen’s wrist and releases it. Jared briefly runs his fingers over the worn piece of metal and then tucks it under Jensen’s shirt. Nodding to himself, he turns and picks up his racket bag and heads out to the court.

Jensen is left stunned and not quite sure what just occurred. What did it mean to Jared that he’d kept it, that he always wore it? He doesn’t have time to analyze though; his handler is waving to him to get moving. He grabs his own racket bag and follows Jared out to the court.

***

Playing against Jared is so familiar that Jensen almost forgets they’re playing in front of thousands of people. The flow of the volley back and forth is practically lulling. That is, until Jared steps up his game. All of a sudden the serves are coming faster, returns are harder and Jensen has to really concentrate on his game in order to keep up.

As games are won and lost and the sets are tied two to two, Jensen thinks the spectators must feel the growing energy between himself and Jared. It’s probably only in his head, but it seems like a hush has fallen over the entire arena. All he can hear is his pounding pulse and his heavy breathing; all he can focus on is Jared and the direction the ball is coming at him.

For every point Jensen wins, Jared wins one in return; they are playing the most intense game Jensen’s ever played. It has all come down to this; his career, his friendship with Jared, his _relationship_ with Jared, and all of it is being fought for here on the court.

They are tied 6/6 in the last set and have to play one last set for the tiebreaker. Jensen’s breath is rough in his chest. He stares across the net and meets Jared’s gaze. He tries to convey in just a look just how much he cares about Jared, how much he loves him.

He bounces the ball a few times, tosses it into the air and reaches his racket back to slam the ball across the court.

***

**Then**

Jensen squinted into the bright sun as it shone off the white sand. He scanned the water’s edge looking for Jared and spotted him off to the left, splashing in the brilliant cerulean waves of the Grecian coast. He and Jared had been in Corfu, Greece for the last week. It had been a rough few months for Jensen after the 2004 US Open. He’d had his back surgery, but he wasn’t healing as fast as he’d hoped. Everything in life seemed to be going to shit—everything except Jared.

His dopey over-sized boyfriend was frolicking like a child in the waves chasing after his Frisbee. The sun reflected off of Jared’s golden-tanned chest and Jensen couldn’t help but grin when Jared called for him to join him in the water.

Jensen let the magazine he was reading slide into the sand and slowly walked toward Jared—mindful of his back.

Jared tossed him the Frisbee and Jensen caught it, walking knee-deep into the bath-warm water. Jensen had barely reached Jared when he felt Jared’s big hands slide around his waist pulling him in for a kiss.

Jensen wrapped his tongue around Jared’s, basking in the delectable taste of Jared’s mouth. As the waves rolled in quicker, splashing them roughly, Jared eventually broke the kiss. He grabbed Jensen’s hand and gestured in the opposite direction of their hotel. “Let’s walk this way.”

Even though Jensen was not a small man, his hand felt tiny entwined with Jared’s. They walked in the surf, not really needing to say anything—just enjoying being with each other.

Every once in a while Jared would point out a bright pink shell or a bleached-white piece of coral, but they never stopped touching—holding hands or brushing up against one another.

They’d gone about fifty yards down the beach when Jared stopped and pointed down into the sand in front of them. “What’s that?”

Jensen squinted, looking for what Jared was pointing at. “I don’t see anything.”

Jared let go of Jensen’s hand and bent down to pick up something metallic that had flashed in the sunlight. Jensen leaned in to see what Jared had found, but all he saw was what looked like a chunk of dirt. “Jared, put it down. All it is, is dirt.”

Jared shook his head and leaned down to the water’s edge. “No it’s not. There’s something metal here.” He swished the object in the ocean, carefully cleaning it off. “See, look.”

When Jensen looked again he saw a round disc that looked minutely small in Jared’s huge hand. It glistened with salt water and looked rather old. “Jared, it’s just some old piece of junk someone threw away. Toss it back.”

Jared looked up his hazel eyes wide. “Jen—it may look like junk, but it probably has some great story behind it. It could be a piece of ancient currency or a keepsake from a Grecian princess. We should totally keep it. It’ll be an awesome souvenir to remind us of this day.”

Jensen tried to hold his laughter in because Jared looked so serious, but he couldn’t help it. It bubbled up and out of him, loud and full of mirth. “Don’t get carried away there. You didn’t just find the lost treasure of Zeus.”

Jared looked down at the small object, disappointed that Jensen wasn’t sharing his enthusiasm. He ran his thumb over the worn piece of metal before half-heartedly tossing it back to the ground. “I guess you’re right. It’s just junk.” He turned and started walking back toward the hotel, leaving Jensen to catch up.

Jensen stared after Jared, watching his hunched shoulders walk away from him. He quickly kneeled down grabbing the piece of metal and stuck it in his pocket. He chased after Jared, calling out to him with zest. “Wait up, ya big girl. Come on, let’s go back to the hotel and take the mini-tour bus down the coast road. I bet we could ride down to the caves at the other end of the beach before sunset.”

Jared’s head popped up—his hair falling into his eyes. “Really?”

Jensen grabbed Jared’s hand again. “Yeah, really.”

Jared grinned and laughed, pulling Jensen along, excited to get back to the hotel.

It was the last day Jensen remembered truly being happy. In the weeks after that, things had gotten steadily worse with his recovery, his attempt at restarting his tennis career and his own attitude until he’d finally lost Jared altogether.

***

**Now**

Jensen and Jared stand in the center of the court. The Open’s officiates and administrators stand around waiting for the ceremony to begin, the fans are still cheering. Jensen can’t hear a thing though; all he can think about is Jared. They’re standing next to each other, but they haven’t spoken or touched. Their eyes are locked, even when the US Open President begins to speak into the microphone. Jensen’s mind is in a fog that only consists of Jared. He misses the speech the officiate gives and finally Jensen can focus when he sees the shiny cup being brought forward. The stadium quiets around them and the officiator’s voice echoes through the stadium. “I’m proud to present the winner of the 2007 US Open—Jared Padalecki.”

A loud cheer goes up in the stands and Jared smiles and waves as he goes up to accept the trophy. The smile that’s on Jensen’s face is just as wide as the on Jared’s. He couldn’t be happier that Jared has won. Jared deserves it and Jensen knows it.

***

Later, after all the interviews and autograph signing, when Jensen and Jared return to the quiet locker room, Jensen can’t wait to drag Jared into a huge hug. He’s not sure whether Jared will accept it. He’s not sure if Jared is going to want to see him again, but he wants Jared to know that he’s happy for him and so very proud of him.

Jensen gets to the locker room first, but Jared isn’t far behind. There is an awkward moment when they are finally alone together, but Jensen takes his chance and hugs Jared, telling him how happy he is for him.

Jared hugs him back and intones softly. “I know you wanted to win this. I know you wanted the US Open cup again.”

Jensen pulls back a bit, shaking his head. “Yeah—I wanted to win. I thought I needed a trophy to prove something to everyone, but really the only prize I ever need I already have.” He reaches up and fingers the medallion that Jared had once seen an epic story in and Jensen had only seen as junk. “You were right when you said this little thing could have a great story behind it. It does. It tells the story of a cocky guy who thought he had everything until he lost the person most important to him.” He pauses and catches Jared’s gaze. “And it’s what brings them back together and _keeps_ them together.” Jensen’s last statement is really a question—a question that he hopes Jared answers affirmatively.

He looks at Jared expectantly, trying to read what is going on in Jared’s eyes.

They stand like that—in a half embrace—for a what seems like forever, but couldn’t be longer than a minute. Jensen can feel his chest tightening with each second that ticks by that Jared doesn’t say anything. Finally, when Jensen is sure that he can’t take one more moment of silence Jared leans down and captures his mouth. His lips are soft and warm and taste vaguely of blue Gatorade.

When he finally realizes what this kiss means, Jensen’s heart jumps in his chest and he plunges himself into the kiss—licking into Jared’s mouth and savoring every moment.

They stand kissing in the middle of the locker room in Arthur Ashe Stadium completely caught up in themselves until Jared whispers huskily in his ear. “Let’s get out of here and celebrate.”

***

They move the celebration of Jared’s first US Open win to his hotel suite. They barely make it through the door before they frantically remove each others clothes and Jared fucks him against the wall. They have all this pent up energy and emotion and as much as they want to take things slow the first time, they just can’t wait to get their hands all over each other.

Later, after they sleep wrapped up in each other, Jensen orders food and he eats raspberries and whipped cream from Jared’s chest. This time they _are_ taking it slow. Jensen licks his way down Jared’s neck and chest, sucking intermittently until he reaches a nipple. He teases the tip of his tongue around the puckered edge of dusty brown skin and worries his teeth at the little nub until a groan rumbles in Jared’s throat.

Smiling against Jared’s skin, Jensen continues his way down, leaving a wet trail down Jared’s abdomen. He traces a warm circle around Jared’s navel and then settles lower, coming face to face with the flushed head of Jared’s dick.

There’s a bead of pre-cum leaking from the tip and Jensen stretches his tongue to lap it up and gently tease at the slit. Jared’s hips jerk up and the sticky head of his cock grazes Jensen’s cheek leaving a glistening streak of spit and pre-cum over his freckles.

Jared’s eyes darken at the sight and his head arches back. “Jen—please.”

Jensen startles for a moment; he’s never heard Jared beg. It turns him on more than he ever can remember being. He slides lower and licks the length of Jared’s cock before swallowing him down. He sucks at the spongy head and swirls his tongue around as he bobs up and down.

Jared’s hands slide into his hair and Jensen lets him buck up into his mouth taking every bit of Jared he can. Jared tightens his fingers in Jensen’s hair and suddenly Jensen is being pulled up and off Jared’s cock.

Jared maneuvers them so Jensen’s on his back and Jared’s kneeling between his legs. His pupils are blown wide as he looks down at Jensen. “Want to fuck you. Want to come inside you.”

Jensen’s eyes slip close. “Oh God, yes.”

Jared’s hands skim over his body making him shiver. He’s missed this so much. Jared taking his time—touching him so intimately—making him feel special.

Jensen whimpers when Jared’s lubed finger circles his hole and presses in gently. Jared pets at his stomach as he moves his finger inside him, lovingly stretching him open. He feels Jared drip more lube over his balls and it slides down between his cheeks making everything slippery.

As Jared’s fingers disappear, Jared slides his cock over Jensen’s opening and up against his balls. A slow burn has been percolating in Jensen and as Jared lifts his legs to rest over his shoulders, he whines loudly.

Jared smoothes his hands down Jensen’s sides and leans down, bending Jensen almost in half, but bringing their faces close so they can see—really see—each other as they make love.

When Jared begins to thrust inside of him, it’s slow at first. Jensen watches Jared’s face, the way his mouth is slack and the way his eyes clench shut when he groans long and loud. He wants to reach up and brush the long bangs that fall across Jared’s face, obstructing a better view of his eyes, but he doesn’t think he could control his arm enough to do it.

Jared has quickened his pace, causing Jensen’s legs to slide off Jared’s shoulders and the crooks of his knees rest at Jared’s elbows. After a moment, Jared moves his right arm, letting one of Jensen’s legs fall completely to the bed and he wraps his hand around Jensen’s dick.

He’s squeezing just right and Jensen starts to babble out loud. “Please. Feels so good. I’m sorry. Love you. Love you. Love you.”

He comes over Jared’s fist with a groan and continues to mumble ‘love you’ over and over until Jared comes warm and sticky inside of him.

They settle, slick with sweat, around each other and Jared brushes the damp hair from his forehead and kisses Jensen. “Shhh, baby. I know. I know. I love you too.” Jared swallows Jensen’s chant as he kisses him. Tucking his head into the crook of Jared’s neck, Jensen hears Jared whisper again, “Love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I started writing this during the US Open hoping to post it while the tournament was still going on, as it happens RL distracted me and it took me longer than I thought to finish it, but now: Yay, fic!
> 
> A/N 2: Many, many thanks to the incomparable [](http://nemo-88.livejournal.com/profile)[**nemo_88**](http://nemo-88.livejournal.com/) for the wonderful beta.


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